I am a great admirer of My Life on the D-List, the reality TV show featuring stand-up comedian Kathy Griffin. The show dramatizes Griffin’s major source of comic material: her own marginal interactions with “A-list” celebrities, who always remain just outside the picture. One episode opens with a monologue about how Griffin was supposed to present an award to Renée Zellweger, whose assistant then called the network and asked for a different presenter (“and I said, ‘Whatever that sweaty, puffy coke whore wants, she should get’”). The episode proceeds to document Griffin’s receipt of a truly enormous crate of long-stem roses, signed: “Warmest wishes, Renée Zellweger.” Griffin ponders the significance of these roses (silencer, peace offering, anthrax delivery vehicle), first at home with her mom, and then in Chevy’s Fresh Mex with her gay friends (who describe Zellweger’s gift as “a modern day Rubik’s cube”); Griffin calls the florist to ask how much the roses cost ($520); Griffin and her assistant brainstorm possible thank-you notes.
Griffin’s treatment of Renée Zellweger reminded me, in certain ways, of Tolstoy’s treatment of Napoleon in War and Peace.


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